Splashes
by Felandris09
Summary: King, Herald and Commander share a bath. NOTE: No, that's wind. :D


Trevelyan couldn't stop marvelling at the huge round bath. Adorned with a myriad of colourful mosaic tiles inside and out, it was deep enough for the soothing water to reach her chest. Even a small fire crackled underneath to maintain the temperature.

A thin cloud of steam wafted by, and the luscious scents of rosemary and oranges tickled her nose. She grinned.

 _And most importantly, this delightful construction_ _offered plenty of space_ _for at least three people…_

"To your health, my dear Sers," she purred, raising her flute of sparkling wine towards the two figures lounging opposite her.

Reclined against the edge of the bath, Alistair echoed her gesture, emptying his glass with a satisfied hum. Gentle splashes caressed puckered nipples, and his skin bore a hint of a flush from the cosy warmth.

Cullen didn't drink but held her stare while reaching for the silver plate beside him. Playful mischief made his scar twitch and those alluring little lines dance around his eyes.

The smirk widened when his fingers found a plump strawberry. White teeth bit into red fruit. Under the surface eager hands grasped her waist. Trevelyan smiled as they shared the succulent sweetness in a clumsy kiss.

Tongues met, teeth dug in and lips slurped as they fought for the treat, Cullen winning the bigger chunk.

Trevelyan giggled as juice trickled down her chin, neck then chest. Still chewing, Cullen wasted no time, his tongue following the thin trail to lap up the sticky nectar.

"Hang on now, Commander," came the complaint from behind, "you're not going to leave your king _starving_ , are you?"

Without looking up, Cullen waved Alistair closer. As his full lips found her neck, she grasped ginger strands with one hand and golden curls with the other. Warmth tingled in her belly, pulsed between her legs, and she groaned when their heads traversed downwards.

Just as two hungry mouths were each about to latch onto a stiff peak, she summoned all her restraint to remind them of more immediate necessities.

"How many times do I need to tell you boys? It's not play time until you get yourselves cleaned up!" Her near-perfect imitation of the stern _Chantry mother_ tone had its desired effect. Trevelyan stifled a laugh when both men flinched at her scold, looking up at her with confused frowns.

She reached for the bar of hair soap, beaming. "Commander?" He indulged her, turning around to let her go about her favourite chore.

Alistair shuffled to kneel behind her, and they began tending to each other's hair, sharing the soap between them.

Working up satisfying lather, Trevelyan sighed when she touched those soft curls she so admired. Each unruly lock was rolled between her fingers then covered in fragrant froth as she worked along his head in a firm yet tender massage.

Creamy suds clouded the water and relaxing lavender notes mixed with the bouquet of fragrances. Trevelyan savoured each of Cullen's endearing groans as she kneaded his scalp. Now and then the tips of her peaks happened to brush against his back, and the pleasant tingle rose in her lap again.

Behind her, the nimble fingers tending to her own tresses were joined by curious lips pressing onto her shoulder. He sucked, leaving a mark she'd wear proudly.

As their bodies drew closer and slippery skin beckoned, both she and Alistair hurried to finish the task at hand. When a fresh stream of clear water was poured over her head she followed suit, emptying one of the wide bowls on the side over Cullen's hair.

Once all froth had been rinsed from their respective manes, the three sat in silence- relishing the moment, the tingle, _each other_. There was nothing but calming scents, chests rising and falling, pulses throbbing and hearts racing with excitement.

Then something occurred to her. She turned to face Alistair, whose hair was still dry. "What about you?"

An impish grin brought out the green in his eyes as he reached for another bowl, drenching himself in its steaming contents without further ado.

Soaked strands clinging to his head, he spluttered water, squinting at her. "Done."

Before she could respond, Cullen had sat back and was gesturing for Alistair to join him. "Your Majesty," he cooed, "you look rather in need of a good back scrub."

Alistair's chuckle coincided with the sudden throb between her thighs. King sat before commander, facing Trevelyan, and a fluffy sponge was grabbed. Soon content sighs filled the room. Slender streams poured down Alistair's chest, splitting when they breached his nipples before merging with the water's surface.

Cleanliness, however, wasn't Cullen's primary concern. A nip at an earlobe, a lick along Alistair's neck, the flick of a fingertip coaxed the most exquisite little sounds out of him. Then Cullen made sure she was watching before he brushed a damp lock away from a delicate ear. Alistair shuddered at the seductive timbre of his whisper. Though the words remained private, Trevelyan knew the powers of Cullen's voice, had writhed underneath its strokes many times. Alistair's head fell back to rest against a broad shoulder as he let Cullen have his way with him.

Fascination pulled at her once again, and she couldn't peel her eyes off the glistening panes of muscle; the soft patches of chest hair; the tiny pearls of water dripping from Cullen's curls; the tempting _o_ of Alistair's lips; the rocking of their bodies, generating timid waves. Sponge abandoned, Cullen's eyes bore into hers as he traced circles around Alistair's impossibly round navel.

Trevelyan swallowed hard, noticing how dry her throat was. Cullen's salacious vigour and Alistair's willing submission had her starving for them both- for their caresses, their kisses, their _cocks_.

She wet her lips and leant back just enough for the tips of her nipples to peek out of the water, smiling at her commander's immediate reaction.

Cullen's eyes, black with just a trace of honey, darted towards the inviting provocation for the shortest moment. He growled, raw and carnal. Only then did she notice his arm's slow rise and fall- and suddenly understood why Alistair's was now moaning, grimacing in pleasure. Her heartbeat picked up along with Cullen's movement as he flashed her that cocky smirk.

And then he asked the question, as enticing as its answer obvious.

"Would you like to be with Alistair?" The king's Adam's apple bobbed, his eyes flying open, clouded by a flash of uncertainty but glowing with unabashed lust.

Trevelyan held Cullen's stare for another second before taking in Alistair. There was something in the way his lips were parted, his brow creased, his voice broken. It spoke to her, tugged at her, left her body _screaming_ for him.

"Maker, yes," she managed at last.

A shriek escaped her when she almost toppled over from the head-high wave that crashed into her along with the king's body.

Want burned in her chest, throbbed between her legs as he swept her up into his lap.

She loved Cullen. Adored, revered him. But she also _craved_ Alistair- her and Cullen both.

 _And judging from the hard flesh boring into her tummy, the feeling was very much mutual._

Giddy excitement lay in her smile as her fingers grazed the ridges of his abdominals- exploring, rediscovering, realising how much she'd missed him.

His eyes blazed as he drew her even closer, resting his forehead against hers. Trevelyan's hands wandered, scouting down Alistair's back, mapping the patterns of scars- different but no less tempting than Cullen's.

A finger raised her chin, and her heart jumped when his face inched nearer, supple lips grazing hers at last.

Wine, mint and a flavour that was unique to Alistair hit her when their tongues met in a long-overdue caress. Her fingers wound into slick hair, dug into his lean back. She was wet, _so wet_ , as was everything around her. Her own dampness seemed to blend in with the soothing splashes, the same way she ached to unite with him.

When he pulled away she stuck her bottom lip out in disappointment- and bit down on it when his intentions became clear.

A big gulp, straight from the bottle, and before she knew it he was at her bosom, lapping and slurping. The icy prickle shot through her, cumulating in an almost violent twitch of her pearl and a ragged sob tearing from her throat. Grinning, Alistair left her little chance to catch her breath before taking in a greedy mouthful of her other breast. When he rose to kiss her she was trembling, melting into his embrace.

Trevelyan shoved her tongue into his mouth, wrapped her legs around his hips, grasped for his length.

A light current betrayed movement behind her, and a silent communication passed between the men. Then she found herself lifted further, Alistair's broad palms supporting her thighs as he rose to stand on his knees.

She hummed as the rough tip of a finger trailed down her spine. Shivered when it reached her cleft. Groaned as it settled against the opening.

Almost came when Cullen spoke.

"May I?"

It was only from his soft laugh and Alistair's delicate kiss that she knew she'd managed some sort of affirmation.

From the corner of her eye she could see Cullen grabbing the small flask she'd wondered about. Alistair breathed a string of feather-light pecks along her neck, holding her steady.

The cork plopped. All of a sudden her backside felt dangerously, deliciously exposed, hanging up in the air as it was. Cullen's warmth drew nearer, and she flinched at his touch. Wary anticipation dissolved into comfortable tingles when she recognised his lips, covering her buttocks in slow, sweet kisses. A lick, a nibble, a bite here and there- all while closing in on the centre.

Then it happened.

A slick finger at her entrance. Circling. Probing. A sharp breath. A tender mumble into her suddenly-burning ear.

And the digit entered her, bringing a sharp sting- and deep, profound bliss.

All nerves in her body, along with hundreds she'd never known, sang with a pleasure so unique, so intense all of her skin prickled up in goose bumps. Her ragged cry was swallowed up by the soft yet greedy touch of Alistair's lips, emboldened by her obvious rapture. She whimpered into his welcoming mouth in helpless surrender to the delightful intrusion.

Slow, affectionate strokes paved the way for the finger to fill her, teasing and tantalising as it rose through her. When its length was sheathed in her the brush of Cullen's mouth on the nape of her neck sent new shivers through her.

Then his tongue snuck out, slow licks mimicking the motion of the second digit now pressing into her. The burn was back, as was the thrill, and it took Alistair's quiet coos for her to realise she'd tensed up. She rested her head on the king's shoulder, safe in his arms.

The fingers scissored, opening her up, grazing against the snug walls. Sliding through her with more ease now, gliding on a generous helping of warm oil.

Alistair's lips and hands found her breast, squeezing and suckling knowing it made her wetter and softer. She hissed, leaning into his touch.

By the time the third finger breached her, she was grinding into Cullen's hand, against Alistair's mouth, her motions as lascivious as her utterances. Everywhere was slick now, damp and hot.

Another wordless message. The fingers made a gentle exit, leaving her empty for a frustrating few seconds. Then she blinked as she was lowered; gasped when the head of Cullen's cock nestled against her opening; moaned, low and wanton, as she sank down on him in the slowest, most intense motion.

When he was buried in her, all three paused, resting against one another. Cullen felt wider, thicker than usual. He moved, tentatively, and she thought she'd burst with sheer pleasure.

Alistair watched as they found their rhythm, keen eyes clouded with lust. He cocked his head, pink tongue flicking over parted lips. Before he could speak, she had already nodded, sighed _yes_.

Within an instant he obliged, hips rolling upwards. Soaked ginger curls brushed against her bald mound as he entered her- with more ease but not a fraction less bliss.

Then she was _full_. Full of her knights, united in the most intimate manner. Slippery, decadent and empowering.

And so very intense. Every touch, every sound was deeper, clearer, truer; their joining a celebration of the trust, the affection they shared. Her men were as lost in the utter sensation as she- Alistair mewled in awe with each thrust, and Cullen's quiet curses reverberated against her shoulder.

Their movements were a hasteless up and down. Some thrusts simultaneous, others in sequence; all were overwhelming, on the brink of _too much_.

They whispered to her, the alluring strokes of their silken cadence making her cunt clench as they told her how gorgeous she looked; how tight she was; how they wanted to feel her come.

Each sway, each tiny motion was so acute, so intense it was hard to endure. When Alistair's slender fingers sought out her nubbin she knew she wouldn't last long. Skilful as ever, he rolled the swollen bundle, tugging and kneading until she was breathless.

Then they kissed, and that was it.

Reaching over her left shoulder, Alistair pulled Cullen's face into his. Eager tongues shot out, meeting in a playful dance before they were swallowed up by the hasty, _urgent_ touch of their mouths.

Clicking teeth, smacking lips, _and those moans_ \- each sound dragged her a little further. As they kissed both men's hips picked up pace, thrusting harder, _deeper._

Trevelyan's quim, her legs, _all of her_ shook, melted away with rapture. The wild pulse of her climax led the knights to their own end. Together they climbed higher, floating above a world that stood still.

She vaguely registered the splash when Alistair withdrew from her, crying out in that restrained falsetto as creamy white beads hit the water, dissolving into thin threads.

Strong arms held her steady as Cullen croaked out his lust, spilling and twitching inside her.

When the heavens set them down the lovers sat in a loose embrace, sharing tired smiles and lazy kisses.

They took their time resting, nibbling on leftover strawberries as they became relaxed-

 _A little_ too _relaxed perhaps_ , Trevelyan thought when five, maybe six plump bubbles rose up from where Alistair was sitting.

Cullen shot him a glance, trying for a stern frown but failing to hide the amusement from his voice.

" _Alistair_ …?"

Ferelden's king and saviour sat up, rubbing the back of his head, thorough mortification slowing his speech.

"Might want to get out of this water…"

Trevelyan looked at him, saw the sheepish grin spreading across his tomato-red face before her gaze wandered across the bath.

A smile appeared in her eyes, then on her lips, voicing itself in a giggle. Her shoulders started shaking and her stomach trembled as it grew into a laugh, loud, contagious and tear-inducing.

And Trevelyan kept laughing as they helped her out of the bath, wrapped her in a huge towel and gently patted her dry. Never stopped while they cleaned up the remnants of their indulgence.

She laughed all the way to the bedroom, her guffaws echoing off the high walls as they carried her towards the bed and set her down into its luxurious comfort.

Her helpless cackles only softened into throaty moans when hungry mouths claimed her skin and they made love for the rest of the night.


End file.
